


Virtue & Valor

by after_avenging_hours



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Agent Valor, F/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Plot Twists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:22:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25639459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/after_avenging_hours/pseuds/after_avenging_hours
Summary: You and your husband have the perfect life. Jobs that you love, a happy marriage, an amazing sex life... You couldn’t ask for anything more. But when something unexpected shows up on your front doorstep that completely turns your world upside down, can your relationship survive the fallout? Or will you have to let your feelings go in favor of the greater good? Letting go of the past can be difficult, especially when the future looks so bleak, but maybe you can figure out how to move forward together. You may just make it out to see the other side.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Comments: 22
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This chapter contains smut (18+). Also, the Reader character is called 'Val' as a nickname, this will be explained later

You wake up in the morning to the brush of lips against your shoulder. This is then followed by the feeling of a pair of strong arms tightening around your waist. “Good morning, Mrs. Rogers.”

You groan in protest, trying to bury your face into the pillow. “You’re lying, it’s not morning yet…”

His chuckle is deep, still filled with a hint of slumber. “I’m afraid it is.”

Blearily opening your eyes, it takes a second to adjust. The numbers on your alarm clock blur together into one green lump until you blink a few times, 6:05. “Wow, you let me sleep in a whole five minutes,” you comment, tilting your head to look back over your shoulder.

A pair of bright blue eyes shine back in amusement. “Well, I did keep you up late last night.”

A lazy smile tilts your lips upward. “Yes, you did. And on a school night, how dare you?”

“What can I say? My wife is irresistible,” he responds.

“What a coincidence. So is my husband.” You shift your body around to face him, leaning on your side as you reach up to pull his mouth down to yours. He moans against your mouth, one of his hands slipping underneath your tank top to slide up your back. Steve pulls you on top of him as he falls back against the pillows. Your hands roam across his bare chest as you straddle his waist. You can feel his half-hardened length brush against your core, separated by the thin material of your panties and his boxers. Grinding your hips down, Steve groans against your mouth.

His large hands grip your hips as he pulls out of the kiss. “We should stop. Or else we’ll be late. Not all of us have a free period first thing in the morning.”

You give him a coy look, running your tongue over your bottom lip, where you can still taste him. “You started it.”

He gives you a warning look. “You kissed me first.”

“I wouldn’t have if that mouth of yours didn’t look so delicious.”

Said lips twitch as he tries to fight off a smile. “Are you telling me that you only married me for my mouth?”

You release a laugh, smiling brightly, “That… among other things… Your butt is pretty high up there too.” You yelp in laughter when he suddenly flips you onto your back, taking a dominant position over you.

“I didn’t realize my wife was so superficial.”

Your arms loosely hook around his neck. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

He hums giving you another amused look. His head bends down and you tilt yours up expecting another kiss, however at the last second, he diverts and presses his lips to your cheek. “Nice try, sweetheart. But it’s time to get up.” He pulls your arms off and pushes himself up.

You groan in protest, rolling onto your stomach and burying your face into your pillow. “Do I have to?”

“Unless you want to drive yourself.”

Grumbling under your breath, you push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Sinking your hips back, you drop your shoulders and extend your arms in a stretch. A strained moan slips passed your lips as you work the kinks out of your fatigued muscles.

“Val…” Steve calls in a warning tone again.

“Yeah?” you respond, moving back up onto your hands and knees and curling your back to stretch your spine.

“Knock it off.”

“Knock what off?” you ask innocently.

He sighs and shakes his head. “Never mind, I’m just gonna go start the coffee.”

You can’t stop the small giggle that slips out after he’s left the room. Pushing yourself off the bed, you stretch your arms up and arch your back once more, before following Steve out and into the kitchen. He’s already standing at the coffee maker, scooping the grains into the top. You step up behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso and place a soft kiss in between his shoulder blades.

“Is it possible to fall asleep standing up?” you ask, resting your cheek on his back and close your eyes.

He chuckles, twisting around to throw his arm over your shoulders and brings your body over to his front. He places a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’m sure you could figure it out. Which is why I can’t let you.” His hands fall to your hips, so he can lift you up and onto the counter. He settles himself between your legs, looking at you with a hooded gaze. “Have I told you how much I love you this morning?”

You hum, running your hands up his arms to loosely wrap around his neck. “No, not yet.”

He bends his head down, brushing his nose slightly against yours. His mouth tilts in a crooked smile. “Well, I love you.”

You smile back, tilting your face up to his. “Oh yeah, how much?”

His lips brush ever so slightly against yours. “I’m thinking that I should probably just show you.” He slants his mouth over yours, pulling you into a kiss. Your arms tighten around his neck, arching your body up into his. You moan into the kiss, hands running through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“What happened to not being late?” you mumble against his mouth.

You can feel his lips stretch into a smile. “Coffee’s brewing, we can afford a few minutes of distraction.”

You hum, “We could do a lot in a few minutes.”

He nips playfully at your lower lip. “We could... But you know how much I enjoy giving it to you long and slow.”

You release a small whimper, your knees squeezing his waist. “Mr. Rogers, that’s not how you should be speaking to your wife if you don’t intend to follow through.”

He chuckles, pulling back to look down at you. “If she’s patient enough to wait until after school, then I _will_ follow through.”

You glare up at him, clearly unimpressed. “You don’t put a glass of water in front of a dying man and then tell him to wait 8 hours.”

He chuckles, “I guess it’s a good thing you’re not a dying man, then.” He pushes away from the counter, moving to the cupboards to pull down two mugs.

You jump off the counter trying to push the ache between your thighs out of your mind. “I didn’t realize how big of a tease you were when I married you.”

He grins crookedly. “Too late now.”

“What goes around comes around, Rogers,” you threaten mildly, warning that all this teasing is going to bite him in the ass later.

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” he chuckles.

He gets your coffees ready while you whip up a quick breakfast for the two of you to share. With a mug and a plate each set out on the kitchen table, you and Steve take your seats and start digging in. “What are you teaching today?” you ask in between bites of food.

“We’re starting a new segment in the advanced class. Creating optical illusions.” 

You pause, thinking about what exactly goes into teaching a subject like that, let alone actually making the art piece. “That sounds… hard.”

Steve laughs. “That’s why it’s the advanced class. What about you?”

“We started Intro to Mixed Martial Arts at the beginning of the week.”

Steve gives you a questioning glance, “Mixed Martial Arts? In High School PE?”

You grin openly, gazing back at him. “Remember that survey I gave the kids at the beginning of the year? The one that asked them to tell me what subjects they wanted to cover. A good percentage actually picked MMA as their top 3. And thank God we actually work in a district that gives us funding. I think this is the most successful year we’ve ever had in PE. The kids are actually engaged for once.”

“It’s pretty incredible what kinds of things you can accomplish when the kids are willing to pay attention,” Steve agrees.

“You certainly don’t have any issues with that,” you grin cheekily before taking a sip of your coffee. “Those horny teenagers can’t take their eyes off of you, _Mr. Red-Hot Rogers_.”

Steve laughs loudly as you say the nickname that’s been circulating around the school halls for longer than you can remember. “It’s not just me they look at. My wife is sexy as hell.”

You hum curiously, “Is she now? You’ll have to introduce me.”

He grins and shakes his head. “I have a feeling you’ll like her.”

The two of you finish up your breakfast and coffee before heading back into the bedroom to get ready for your day. Steve pinches your ass when he moves passed you to get to the bathroom as you stop in front of your dresser. You yelp and swat his ass in retaliation. He laughs, sending you a cheeky grin over his shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom.

You change into a set of yoga pants, a sports bra, and a loose t-shirt. When Steve emerges from the bathroom, with a fresh face and minty teeth, you switch spots so you can wash your own face and brush your teeth while he gets changed. As you step back out of the bathroom, you pause and lean against the open doorway, staring shamelessly at the man you get to call your husband.

A pair of black jeans fit snuggly to his thick thighs and perky ass. A white, linen, button-up shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. The shirt is tucked neatly into the top of his jeans, with the collar tucked and the top button left undone to reveal the hollow of his throat. He’s looking down, with a concentrated look on his face as the rolls up the sleeves on either side.

Sometimes, in quiet moments like this, you get a strange feeling that this can’t possibly be real. That _he_ can’t be real, let alone that he’s even _yours_. Steve Rogers is the perfect man. He’s sweet, attentive, attractive, and a _God_ in bed. He makes you feel loved, cherished, and alive. As he lifts his head and catches your gaze, the small tilt of his lips have you falling even deeper into this dream-like existence.

“You keep staring at me like that and we’re going to be late,” he chuckles.

Smiling back, you step forward into his open arms, hooking yours up around his neck while his hands settle around your waist. “Would that be so bad?” you ask.

He brings his lips down to place a sweet kiss on your forehead, knowing full well that’s not what you want out of him. “Yes,” he responds simply before releasing your waist and reaching up to unwind your arms from around his neck. He laughs at your pout, “Come on. The sooner we get to school, the sooner we get to the end of the day. Then you can have me in any way you want.”

You roll your eyes and huff, but comply and follow him obediently out of the bedroom. He grabs the car keys, his wallet, and his phone from the bowl on the kitchen counter. You then grab your keys for the school locker rooms, the gym, and the equipment building, which are attached to a lanyard. You place the lanyard around your neck, then grab your phone and wallet next before following Steve out the door in the kitchen that leads to the garage.

Steve lets you pick the radio station, but the drive isn’t very long before he’s pulling into the faculty parking lot. The two of you walk hand in hand into the school, stopping first at the faculty lounge. Several of your coworkers already fill the room, many giving a wave or word of greeting upon your arrival. You and Steve split off into different directions as he moves to talk with one of the other art teachers and you head for the coffee table.

Fighting off a yawn, you pour out your second cup for the day, knowing that you’re going to need the extra caffeine to make it through the morning. Not only did Steve keep you up late the night before, but you’d also woken up several times due to some strange dreams. Dreams you couldn’t seem to recall once morning hit.

“Damn you, Val. Damn you to the deepest parts of hell.” A familiar voice has you lifting your head from where you’re trying to pour out some creamer into your coffee cup.

It’s Deborah, one of the biology teachers. You look at your friend incredulously. “What did I do?”

“You walk into the teacher’s lounge, with your gorgeous husband, looking like you’ve been plowed into half of the night.” She glares light-heartedly, her gaze sweeping over your form.

You can’t help but release a girlish giggle, attempting to hide it behind your coffee cup as you lift it up to your face. “Well, you’re not wrong…”

“Jesus! You guys have been married for how long? And yet you still go at it like you’re in your honeymoon phase! How is that fair?” She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning a hip against the table.

You shrug. “What can I say, the sex is amazing.”

“Yeah, still not fair… When are you going to learn to share?” she gives you a pointed look.

“Not anytime soon, that’s for sure,” you laugh.

“Killjoy.”

You both stare at Steve from across the room. He’s in a conversation with Don Matthews at this point, one of the English teachers. Feeling the burn of your gaze, he looks over, locking eyes with you. You see the corner of his mouth curl upward before he sends you a wink.

“Good God, I want to sit on his face.” Your friend sighs. “Do you ever sit on his face?” she asks you.

“Deborah!” you laugh, slapping her shoulder.

“What? You could at least give me details. I’m living vicariously through you.”

“What happens between me and my husband in the bedroom _stays_ between me and my husband,” you respond cryptically.

“So, that’s a yes,” she confirms. You notice her gaze drifting up to something over your shoulder.

Moments later, you feel a strong arm wrap around your waist. “What are you two lovely ladies giggling about over here?” Steve asks.

“We’re not giggling,” you respond right as Deb speaks.

“Oh, I was just asking Val how often she gets to sit on your gorgeous face,” she comments nonchalantly.

“Deb!” you hiss in warning.

Steve’s hand tightens on your hip as he chuckles. “I don’t know, maybe about twice a week? If we had it my way, she’d be there every day, but Val likes to keep things mixed up.”

“Steve!” you look up at him, appalled.

He grins cheekily at you, bending down to place a quick kiss on your lips. “I’m gonna head to my room to get ready for class.”

“Later, Deb,” he smiles politely at your friend.

“Bye…” she responds in a small squeak, watching him walk away. “God, if I could murder you and take over your life, I would in a heartbeat.”

“Gee, thanks,” you comment dryly. “I’m going to head to the gym to prepare for second period.” You take your coffee with you and walk out of the lounge. You wave hello and smile at the few students that are already on campus. Some you’ll see in class later and other’s you’ve had in previous years.

The day goes by fairly quickly. It helps that most of the kids are still excited about this new unit, although many of the boys groan in protest when you tell them you won’t be teaching any advanced takedowns today. “We’re concentrating on defensive maneuvers mostly. If I hear about any of you trying to pick fights in the schoolyard, using the moves I’ve taught you… not only will you have to answer to me, but you will be stuck running laps every day, all period long, until the end of the school year. Do I make myself clear?” you give the same spiel each period, and it’s luckily well received.

Before you know it, the watch on your wrist is buzzing in warning for ten minutes until the last bell rings. You dismiss your last period for the day, allowing them to head off to the locker rooms to change out of their PE uniforms. You clean up the gym a little to make less work for the janitorial staff and to kill a little time while the students are changing before locking up the empty locker rooms.

You walk down the halls of the school, heading for the art wing and then step into Steve’s room. You love Steve’s classroom. It’s vibrant and colorful. Every single possible inch of space is being used to display his student’s work. The joy and creativity seem to surround you like a warm blanket.

You find him sitting behind his desk, dexterous fingers clicking away at the keyboard to his computer. His gaze flicks up above the monitor as you approach and he smiles when he sees it’s you. “Give me just a minute, Sweetheart,” he tells you before turning back to the screen.

You nod in understanding and take a walk around his room, looking over the dozens of pieces of art. No matter how many times you look at them all, you never grow bored. In fact, it always seems like you’re able to find something new every day.

As promised, it doesn’t take him very long to finish up before he’s turning off his computer and stepping up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you back against his chest.

“How was your day?” he asks, placing a kiss to your temple.

You sigh happily, falling into his embrace. “It was good, but I’m ready to go home.”

“Me, too,” he agrees. Taking your hand, he leads you out of the room, turning off the lights then he closes and locks the door. His palm is warm against yours, his touch sending tingles of awareness through your entire body. You have to separate once you get to the car, however, after he’s pulled into the garage and you’ve both stepped back out, he waits for you with his hand outstretched as you make your way around the vehicle. With fingers intertwined once again, he leads you through the door into the kitchen. You both deposit your cell phones, keys, and wallets back into the bowl on the counter and then head for the bedroom. You pull off your sports bra, tossing it into the laundry hamper and then bend down to remove your shoes and socks next. You leave the bedroom, barefoot, as you make your way back to the kitchen to get started on dinner. Steve changes out of his work clothes into a more comfortable t-shirt and basketball shorts combo before he joins you in the kitchen.

The two of you work in sync to get the food prepared, already having decided on what you were going to eat during the drive home. “Do you wanna watch a movie tonight?” Steve asks as he doles the food out evenly on the two plates.

“Sure. Whose turn to pick?” you ask, pouring out a glass of wine for you and grabbing a beer from the fridge for him.

“Yours,” Steve confirms, taking one plate in each hand before moving to the living room and setting the plates down on the coffee table.

You follow him and take your spot on the couch and set down your drinks. Grabbing the TV remote, you pull up Netflix and start to search through the various options. Steve had a tendency of picking historical documentaries or military based movies. You however had a pension for spy thrillers and action movies. You end up settling on a film that seems to touch Steve’s military interests along with your need for some blood-pumping action. As the movie buffers, you curl in close to your husband, pulling your dinner plate into your lap.

The two of you are fairly invested in the film, occasionally making a comment or some sort of reaction as the events play out. As soon as he’s cleaned off his plate, Steve sets it back down on the coffee table and stretches his arm over the back of the couch and across your shoulders to tuck your body in a little closer to his chest. You welcome the warmth that he provides, settling against him like a puzzle piece locking into place.

By the time the credits for the movie are rolling on the screen, your body is completely relaxed and pliant against his. “That one was pretty good,” Steve remarks, his thumb swiping across your shoulder absentmindedly.

You make a sound of agreement. “Mhm… Still don’t understand how they managed to walk away from that plane crash, though. No one could have survived that.”

He chuckles, “That’s why it’s a movie.”

You release a low hum and give a noncommittal shrug.

“So… dishes before or after?” Steve asks, his voice dropping with a suggestive lilt.

Your brows furrow in confusion. “What?” you ask, lifting your head off his chest to meet his gaze. Your breath hitches when you see the heated look in his eyes.

“I still owe you _long and slow_.”

That’s all the reminder you need to get on the same page as him. The flame deep in your belly ignites in an instant and you feel a clench between your legs. Pushing yourself up, you turn and throw a leg over his lap, pinning his hips between your knees. “Dishes after,” you respond before crashing your lips against his. You hold his cheeks between your hands, feeling the beginnings of his stubble tickling your palms. You deepen the kiss, your tongue sliding out to slip between his parted lips.

The hum of pleasure that you pull out of him resonates through your entire body. His hands slide from your waist down to your ass, gripping the flesh eagerly and rocking your hips forward. His basketball shorts do nothing to conceal his arousal as you grind down on him. The wet patch in your panties only grows until you’re sure it’s starting to seep through your yoga pants.

Steve’s hands slide up your back, slipping beneath the hem of your tank top. His fingers travel up the dip of your spine and come to a stop over your shoulder blades. Taking the hint, you pull out of the kiss and lift your arms, allowing him to pull off the bunched-up material and toss it to the floor. His t-shirt is the next to go and then he’s pulling you back in.

Your breasts are crushed against the hard plains of his chest as he holds you close. His cock begins to leak into the wet patch on the front of his shorts where you rub up on him like a cat in heat. He’s certain that if he lets you continue, that dribble of pre-cum will quickly turn into a full-blown climax, so he gathers his resolve and pushes your hips back.

The needy whimper that slips out of you is almost enough to break his resistance. His jaw clenches as he fights the urge to rut up into you like an animal until he creams his shorts. He knows that would probably excite the hell out of you, but he’d made a promise and he intended to keep it. _Long and slow_. He chants those words like a mantra in his head.

“Up,” he encourages, pushing against your hips until you’re sliding off his lap and standing on shaky legs before him. He sits up, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your belly before he releases you and turns to flip the back cushions up and over the top of the couch to make more room. They fall to the floor with a dull thud. “Strip,” he orders next as he moves to lay back across the length of the couch, his head supported by one of the decorative pillows. You are more than happy to comply, slipping your thumbs into the waistband of your pants and undies to push them down your legs. “Now get up here.” He reaches out for you, gripping one of your thighs to drag your leg across his body and settles your knee just above his shoulder. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you sitting on my face since Deb brought it up this morning.”

You manage to catch the briefest glimpse of his cheeky smile before his hands on your hips are pulling you down against him. You moan helplessly as his tongue glides over your slick folds. It’s enough to make your body shiver deliciously. He laves across your wet center with long, bold strokes. Like a predator feasting on his prey, he consumes you.

Sweeping his tongue up to the top of your folds, he circles his lips around your clit and sucks hard. Your back arches as you reach forward to grip the armrest of the couch. You try to not let your weight fall onto him all at once when all you desperately want to do is grind down shamelessly on his tongue. It’s an exquisite torture. Even though you’re the one on top, you’re completely at his mercy.

He transitions flawlessly between the long strokes over your dripping slit and the concentrated laps against your sensitive clit. He knows just what your body needs to get you into that euphoric state where all your worries and fears disappear, leaving nothing behind except pure, unfiltered pleasure. Steve knows your body just about as well as he knows his own. It’s like you’re an extension of himself, instead of a whole other person. He can feel your pleasure and he shares your pain. When your bodies join together it’s like fusing two souls into one. It’s more than just a husband loving his wife. It’s intimate and surreal and cataclysmic.

He knows that you’re close, but his own body is so tightly in tune with yours that he can read the signs of his own impending orgasm all because you’re so close to yours. He rips his mouth from your wet center with a gasping breath. “I need to be inside you,” his voice is so low, it nearly comes out as a growl.

He helps you shuffle back, so you’re no longer up on his shoulders. You lean against the back of the couch to make room for him to shift onto his side. It’s moments like these where the flexibility that comes with the territory of your job and his naturally unnatural strength comes in handy. The two of you move in unison like it’s a coordinated dance until your positions are switched and it’s now your back against the couch cushions while he hovers over you.

The decorative pillow has been pushed to the floor, but you don’t need it as you spread your thighs to make room for Steve’s hips between them. Your hands glide down his back until you’re pushing his shorts down the curve of his ass. He smiles in amusement at the promiscuous squeeze to his behind as he kicks the shorts the rest of the way off. His hips drop until he feels your hot slick against the sensitive tip of his cock. He drags his full length across your folds, still fighting that sensual temptation to take you hard and fast.

He studies your face as a distraction. You look back at him with lust-glazed eyes. They’re hungry and carnal but still manage to have a soft edge of tender affection. He loves looking into your eyes while he makes love to you. It’s like he can see an entire world hidden beneath their depths.

He feels the urgent squeeze of your hands where they’re still firmly planted on his ass. He huffs out a gentle laugh before allowing himself to sink into you. Your lips part into a gloriously wicked moan as he fills you up with every possible inch he has. Steve often finds himself wishing that he could paint sounds because every little sound that comes out of you is a piece of art in and of itself.

He pulls out about halfway before slowly easing back in. He wants to build you back up piece by piece. He wants to savor this like you’re his last meal on Earth. There are times that call for a frantic and rushed coupling, but this isn’t one of them. It’s agonizing and tantalizing, the way he can feel your walls pulse and caress every single nerve ending inside his cock.

He can feel you everywhere. Not just physically, but also mentally and emotionally. The love that you share for each other flows all around you like the air you breathe. It connects you and fills you up until you’re overflowing. “Steve…” his name slips out of you just above a whisper.

The smile he gives you is so warm and tender; you feel like you’re basking in the sun. “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he gives you the assurance, letting you know that you’re free to let go. That he’ll be there to catch you.

He’ll always be there.


	2. Chapter 2

_“Mayday! Mayday! Engine one has been lost and engine two has begun to fail! Does anybody copy?! Hostiles have engaged and we are going down. Last known coordinates are-”_

_The sound of crunching metal is deafening to your ears. The world tilts and spins. The cross straps of your seat belt are the only thing keeping you in place with each violent jolt and shudder. An explosion of pain in your chest alerts you to the potential threat of a broken rib… or many. When you cough, red splatters against the console in front of you. The last thing you feel is the lick of hot flames against your skin before everything goes black._

You wake with a start, shooting up in bed and clutch at your chest. Your heart is beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings. It pounds against your fingertips and echoes in your ears. Panic holds you in its vice-like grip, making your skin crawl and your lungs tight. Your hands desperately move over your collar and down your chest, searching for any evidence of injury.

“You okay?” the groggy voice makes you jump and whip around defensively. Steve tries to blink the sleepiness from his eyes as he looks you over with concern.

“Steve…” you breathe his name, the tension already lessening just by seeing him there. _It’s okay. You’re safe_. Your thoughts come in quietly, barely heard over the blood rushing in your ears. You try to slow your rapid breathing, taking in deep lungfuls of air.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, sitting up and pulling your body into his chest.

You seek the comfort of his embrace. Resting your head on his shoulder, you wrap your arms around his thick torso, allowing his warmth to seep into you. “Nightmare,” you whisper in explanation.

He wraps his arms around you and holds you until you’ve stopped shuddering. He whispers soothing words into your ear and gently rubs your back to help you calm down. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, wanting to help, but not wanting to force you to talk if you’re not ready.

“I dreamt that I was in a plane crash,” you admit, barely above a whisper. You release a shuddering breath. “Maybe it was just because of that movie we watched, but… it felt so _real_.” A shiver of dread travels up your spine.

Steve’s arms tighten around you as he pulls your body into his lap. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “It was just a dream. You’re back with me now. Just focus on me.”

You listen to the steady drum of his heart beneath your ear and focus on it until yours slows down to match. Finally, the last of the tension eases out of you, before your body collapses against his.

“Do you want to get up or do you want a glass of water or anything?” Steve asks.

You shake your head, keeping your forehead pressed to his shoulder. “I just want you to hold me.”

“I can do that,” he assures you. After several minutes pass, you begin to doze off. When Steve is pretty sure you’ve fallen back asleep, he carefully lays back against the pillows and pulls the blankets up and over the both of you. He continues to hold you close until you’ve both fallen back asleep.

He wakes up again a few hours later with the first rays of morning beginning to creep in through the curtains. You’re still tucked in close, so he leans his head down and presses his lips to your forehead. “Good morning, Mrs. Rogers,” he wakes you with his rough morning voice.

Your breathing changes with a deep inhale as you begin to shift against him. “Already?” you protest blearily.

His chuckle makes you bounce against his chest. “I’m afraid so.”

You release a pouty groan, but move to sit up nonetheless.

“You sleep okay?” Steve asks watching as you cover a yawn with your hand.

Your hand drops back to your lap as you give him a curious look over your shoulder. “Yeah, Why?” you counter, noting the concerned look in his eyes.

The concern turns to confusion. “You had a nightmare last night,” he states like he’s trying to jog your memory.

You frown a tilt your head. “I did?” You try to think back, but nothing comes up. “I don’t remember that…”

Steve raises a brow and observes you for a moment before removing the thought from his head. “Probably for the best, then.” He pushes himself up and places a swift peck to your cheek. “We should get up. Don’t want to be late for school.” He stands and performs a quick back stretch before stepping out of the bedroom to get the coffee going.

You spend another minute trying to recall any sort of dream from last night, but when nothing surfaces, you shake the thought away and move to get up and join Steve in the kitchen. “TGIF,” you comment with another yawn.

Steve sends a smile of amusement your way. “You love your job.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t still look forward to Fridays.”

“Doesn’t hurt that Fridays are half days either, I guess,” Steve chuckles.

“No, it certainly does not,” you agree with a grin. Normally Friday afternoons were reserved for teacher and department meetings, but a faculty-wide email had gone out at the end of the day yesterday telling everyone that the meeting had been postponed this week.

You and Steve share another quick breakfast before changing out of your sleepwear and heading out to the school. “Do you ever feel like our life is a little _too_ perfect?” you find yourself asking as you stare out the car window at all the cookie-cutter houses with white picket fences and lush green lawns.

“How do you mean?” Steve asks, keeping his eyes on the road.

You purse your lips as you try to find the best way to speak your thoughts. “I don’t know. It’s just… everything seems so easy, doesn’t it? Every day we wake up, go to work, go back home; wash, rinse, repeat. And yeah, that’s fine and all, but aren’t there supposed to be like little life issues sprinkled in between? We never have issues at work, never have issues with the house or the car. Hell, even our marriage is perfect! Aren’t normal couples supposed to argue over everything? We never have to compromise on what we’re having for dinner or whose turn it is to do laundry, we just do it. And don’t even get me started on the sex!”

That last one makes Steve laugh. “Are you seriously complaining about our sex life?”

“No!” you insist. “But Deborah did make a comment yesterday about how unusual it is that we still go at it like we’ve never left our honeymoon phase. It’s weird, right?”

Steve reaches over to grab your hand, threading his fingers between yours. He lifts your hand up and brings it closer to his face so he can place a kiss to your knuckles. “I think, in this case, it’s better to be the exception rather than the rule.”

You eye him curiously. “But you’ve never thought it was strange?”

He gives you a quick side glance before turning back to the road with a shrug of his shoulder. “I’ve had the thought before, yeah. But then I just think about how lucky we are to be so compatible. It’s a _good_ thing that we don’t have any problems. Our life could be so much worse. Wouldn’t you rather be happy if you were given the option?”

“Yeah…” you agree, looking back out the window. “You’re right. I don’t know why I even brought it up.”

“I mean, if you _want_ me to argue with you, I’m sure I can find ways to piss you off,” Steve sends you a goofy grin.

You laugh and shake your head. “That’s not necessary.”

The school day itself is uneventful. Sometimes you worry that it will be more difficult to wrangle the kids into paying attention on short days, but your classes manage to go smoothly with most students still excited about the martial arts training.

Steve meets you at the locker room doors at the end of the day with a soft smile on his lips and a quick kiss of affection pressed to yours. The two of you stop for a quick lunch at a deli not far from the school before you head home. “How would you like to spend your afternoon, Mrs. Rogers?” Steve asks you as you both step back into the kitchen from the garage.

You release a hum while you think over your options. “I think the bathtub might be calling my name.”

“Oh yeah?” he questions, eyes lighting with interest.

“Care you join me?” you grin suggestively up at him.

His grin matches yours as he wraps an arm around your waist and yanks your body to his. If that’s not enough of an answer for you, then the hungry kiss that follows sure is. His tongue slips into your mouth, his taste mixing with yours and causes a delicious heat to pool between your legs. His hands grip your hips and he starts to walk you backward, through the kitchen and down the hall. You both know the way so instinctively, that you don’t even need to pull apart to see where you’re going. A trail of clothing begins to form in the hallway; your shoes, socks, and yoga pants mixed in with his boots, belt, and jeans.

You’re working the buttons loose on his shirt by the time your feet hit the tile in the bathroom. You let your hands make one quick swipe over his glorious abdominals before pulling your mouth from his with a gasping breath. His lips latch onto your neck before he’s gripping the backs of your thighs and is lifting you up onto the counter for the sink. The cold tile is a startling contrast against your heated core, making you moan.

“Oh god, we could probably take a bath in my underwear, I’m so wet,” you whimper, feeling the clench between your legs as Steve’s hips slot against your spread thighs.

Steve pulls away with a sharp laugh of amusement. “You’re always wet,” he remarks, a slightly prideful tilt to his mouth.

“Well maybe if you were a little less sexy,” you tease.

His eyes flash with want, “I’m a natural aphrodisiac.” Your laughter makes him feel like he’s flying above the clouds. Leaning forward, he places a quick peck to your nose before stepping away to open the faucet for the tub. “You want to light any candles?” he asks, holding his hand under the water to gauge the temperature. Once it’s warm, he flips the switch to close the drain and lets the tub fill up.

“Yeah, I’ll go find the lighter,” you jump down from the counter and make your way passed the trail of clothing back into the kitchen. You riffle around briefly inside the junk drawer, which really can’t be called much of a junk drawer because Steve keeps it impeccably organized, before grabbing the candle lighter.

You begin to head back to the bedroom when you hear a knock on the front door. Diverting course, you head down the opposite side of the hallway. Unlocking the door, you open it partway, making sure to stand mostly behind it to shield your bare legs. You find two people standing out on your front porch, a gorgeous redheaded woman, and an attractive black man.

Both of them look at you in shock. “Val?” they speak in unison.

Your brow furrows and you tilt your head in confusion, “Yes… Can I help you?”

They share a startled look. “We didn’t know you were here. Our intel only told us that Rogers was here,” the woman states.

Her words only confuse you further. “That’s correct. I’m Mrs. Rogers…”

The man begins to choke on his own saliva. “Wait, what?!” he sputters in between coughs.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Val?!” you hear Steve call from deep within the house. “Bath is almost ready. Where’d you go?”

You give the two strangers an odd look, before tilting your head back toward Steve’s direction, “Front door,” you call back.

“Oh… I didn’t realize we were having guests,” Steve states, stepping up behind you and looking over your shoulder at the two outside. “Hello. Is there something my wife and I can help you with?” he asks, not recognizing either of the people standing in front of him.

“Wife? When the hell did you two get married?!” the man asks, still in complete shock.

Steve frowns, hands moving to grasp your hips to pull your back against his chest, his protective instinct kicking in. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s any of your concern.”

“Sam,” the woman reaches a hand out to her companion’s shoulder, giving him a warning look. Her cool gaze then flickers back to the two of you. “I’m sorry for the strange introduction. My name is Natasha Romanoff, this is Sam Wilson. We’re currently looking into a missing persons case, and we were hoping to ask the two of you a few questions.”

You and Steve share a look of concern. “Missing person?” Steve questions. “Is it one of the kids?”

That question seems to catch the woman off guard. “Excuse me?”

“We’re both teachers at the high school,” you explain to her.

She quickly composes herself, “Oh… No, I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that. Is there a chance we could come in?”

You and Steve share a look, silently communicating with each other. He jerks his head to the side, indicating for you to go put on a pair of pants before he lets the two of them inside. You move down the hall, quickly grabbing your yoga pants and Steve’s jeans off the floor. You step into the kitchen first, slipping your pants back on and drop the lighter down on the counter. You then make your way to the living room.

“Forgive me for my state of undress. We weren’t exactly expecting company,” you hear Steve. He steps into the living room, hands buttoning up his shirt as the two strangers follow behind. He takes his pants from you with a grateful smile, bending down to place a swift kiss to your temple.

“Please, have a seat,” you gesture for the two to sit on your couch.

After Steve has his pants back on, he pulls you over to the lounge chair, taking a seat and pulling you onto his lap. The two of them give you a strange look, making you slightly uncomfortable. You wonder briefly if you should move to sit somewhere else, but the only other option is the floor.

“Have you both been married long?” Natasha finds herself asking.

You and Steve share a fond smile. “A few years,” he tells her.

She keeps her features fixed despite recognizing the vague response. “And you both teach at the high school?”

You nod, “Yes. Steve teaches art while I teach PE.”

“And how long have you been doing that?”

You purse your lips as you try to think about it. “Gosh, I’m not even sure. It feels like forever,” you laugh briefly.

Steve steps back in, “So, how can we help with your case?”

Natasha has to bite back a smirk recognizing his need to take control and get things moving in the right direction. “Tell me,” she starts, “What do you know about Captain America?”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You mean the guy that left the Avengers? Not much besides what they’ve been saying on the news. That he walked away from the team and never looked back.” You nod in agreement.

“That’s not exactly what happened. You see, he left on a mission with one of our agents.” Natasha’s eyes flicker to you, looking at you expectantly. When she doesn’t see the reaction she was hoping for, she continues. “The two of them tried to infiltrate a research facility run by the terrorist organization called Hydra. Turns out the intel they had was fake and they’d been lured into a trap. Their plane was shot down before they could make it to the facility. They’ve been missing ever since.”

“That’s horrible,” you mutter quietly. You feel bad for them, but there’s a sort of emotional detachment like you’re not invested in the situation.

You feel Steve sit up a little straighter behind you. “What exactly does this have to do with the two of us?”

Sam releases a frustrated huff, “Steve, you _are_ Captain America.”

You both stiffen in surprise, Steve’s hands tightening at your waist. “What are you talking about? Is this some kind of joke?”

“ _Sam_.” Natasha sends a sharp glare of warning his way. She softens her features before turning back to the both of you. “Look, I understand this may be hard to believe and very confusing, but it seems that you both have completely forgotten who you really are.”

A long, uncomfortable silence stretches out between you all.

“Do you honestly expect us to believe that?” Steve finally asks incredulously. 

Sam makes another sound of annoyance. A sense of urgency lines his features as he turns to his partner. “Nat, we’re wasting time. We don’t even know where they are!”

She places a pacifying hand on his shoulder. “And we won’t be able to find them until we get their full cooperation,” she responds to him before turning back to you. “I’m afraid that we really must insist that you listen to what we have to say.”

“What do you mean ‘find us’?” you ask, the confusion plain on your face. “You’re in our home.”

The two of them share another apprehensive look. Natasha releases a long sigh before speaking. “There’s no easy way to say this,” she begins. “But you’re not actually here. _We’re_ not actually here,” she gestures to herself and Sam. “None of this is real. This isn’t the real world. This is a virtual copy.”

“A virtual copy…” Steve repeats with a blank face.

“Did you guys get that from the Matrix?” you ask with a wry smile that’s bordering on amusement.

“We’re being serious,” Sam cuts in.

“No one has the kind of technology required to build a virtual world,” Steve argues. “Let alone the ability to download a human mind into it.”

“Hydra does,” Nat counters. “They’ve been able to digitize the human consciousness since the 70′s.”

You and Steve share a look of doubt.

“When your plane went down,” Sam catches the way Steve’s gaze sharpens and he corrects himself. “When the Quinjet crashed, it took the rest of the Avengers several hours to get to the wreckage. By the time we showed up, there was no sign of Captain America or Agent Valor. The crash was _bad_. There is no way anyone could have walked away from it. Even the Captain.”

Nat steps back in, “We could only assume that Hydra made it to the crash site first. They moved the bodies to a secure location and we’ve been searching ever since.”

“You’re spinning two _very_ different tales here,” you speak up, barely understanding what they’ve been saying. “What does this plane crash have to do with a virtual copy of the world?”

“As Sam said, the plane crash was horrific. It would have been a miracle if anyone survived, and even if they did, it couldn’t have been without _severe_ injury. When Hydra took the bodies, the only possible way of sustaining the life within would have been to download the consciousness into a virtual world until the body could be repaired.”

“We don’t know where they’re keeping your real bodies,” Sam tells you both.

“Do you realize how crazy you both sound?” you find yourself asking, staring back at them in disbelief.

Nat’s gaze hardens slightly. “Can you honestly tell us that you’ve never once questioned the reality of this world?”

That makes you pause when you remember the conversation that you had with Steve just this morning. Could your life really be so perfect because it was… what? A computer simulation?

“Do you have any proof that can validate the things you’re saying?” Steve asks.

“Our main goal was to establish contact,” Sam responds. “We didn’t know if we would even be able to reach you, let alone that your memory would be wiped.”

That makes you frown, “Our memory is just fine.”

“You’re the one that said you can’t remember how long you’ve been working at the school,” Natasha counters.

“That was just an expression!” you argue back.

“Okay. Then tell us exactly how long you’ve been married. When is your anniversary date?”

You open your mouth to respond immediately, but the words can’t seem to form on your lips. Your brows pinch together as frustration builds inside you. Why can’t you remember your anniversary? “I… I don’t understand,” you falter, glancing back at Steve. He looks just about as lost as you. “But… I can remember our wedding… And our honeymoon…” you protest weakly. You just can’t seem to remember the date.

“Hydra must have planted false memories. They have complete control of your minds. They can do whatever they want,” Natasha explains.

“The two of you aren’t married in the real world,” Sam breaks to you. “It’s fake, just like the rest of this,” he gestures vaguely around the room.

His confession feels like a punch in the gut. “That… that can’t be true,” you whisper brokenly. This seems to shatter everything around you more than anything else they’ve said.

You feel Steve shift beneath you. He lifts your hips enough so he can slide out from under you, leaving you to sit in the chair alone while he stands and moves to the other side of the room. Him physically distancing himself from you shakes you to the core. He can’t honestly believe in the things they’re saying, can he?

He crosses his arms over his chest pins your two guests with a long stare. “The things you’re saying sound impossible,” he starts. “But if, and this is a big _if_ , it’s somehow true… why would Hydra keep us alive? Why not leave us for dead in the plane crash?”

“Hydra has a long history of turning our friends into our enemies,” Natasha replies ominously. “If they can find a use for you, they’ll use you until there’s nothing left.”

“Does this _look_ like we’re getting turned into Hydra terrorists?” you ask, your frustration at this entire situation bleeding through your tone. “We’re _high school teachers_ , for Christ's sake!” You shoot to your feet. “You know what? No,” you swipe your hands through the air. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to this bullshit. Feel free to talk to Steve as much as you want, but I’m done. I’m sorry we can’t help you any further on your _missing persons case_.” Leaving it at that, you walk out of the living room and down the hall into your bedroom, letting the door slam shut behind you.

You feel a little bit like a sulking teenager, but your entire body is shaking and you just can’t seem to handle what’s going on. You step into the bathroom in your bedroom, frowning when you recall the tub full of water in the other bathroom that’s probably gone cold. “What a waste,” you huff before moving to the sink. You splash a few handfuls of cold water against your face, trying to calm your racing thoughts and bubbling emotions. Resting your hands against the sink, you let out a long sigh and stare at yourself in the mirror. “Why can’t you remember your anniversary?” you ask yourself as if the version looking back would be able to respond. She doesn’t.

“Great… now _I’m_ the one going crazy.” You roll your eyes and then grab a towel to dry your face and hands.

You pace around your bedroom, too wired to sit still. You can hear the conversation continuing out in the living room, but you can’t hear what any of them are saying. You just want Steve to tell them to go away.

None of this makes any sense and the more you try to think about it, the more your head begins to ache. Releasing a groan of discomfort, you make your way to the bed to lie down. You curl up on your side, grabbing Steve’s pillow to clutch to your chest like a teddy bear. You draw a small amount of comfort from his scent, but it’s not the same as having him wrapped around you.

A part of you almost wishes that this whole place really _was_ just a computer simulation. Because maybe then you could just hit a re-do button on this whole day.


	3. Chapter 3

_“20 minutes from the drop site.”_

_You look up from the tablet with the mission file that you’d been reading as you stand at the back of the jet. The other agents start to move, grabbing their gear, tucking various weapons into different straps and harnesses across their bodies._

_“How does it feel to be back out of the ice, Cap,” one of the agents asks, a twisted smile on his lips as he slaps a hand to the Captain’s shoulder. “You’d been in there quite a while. What was it like? Did you ever dream while you were in there or is it just completely blank in there the whole time?” he taps a finger to the Captain's temple._

_“Do you ever shut up, Rumlow?” you question in annoyance. The Captain doesn’t respond to the questions, just continues to look forward as if he hasn’t heard anything._

_Rumlow turns his gaze to you, that ever-present smirk still on his mouth as he scoffs. “How’s it going with the Misses, over there?” he asks the Captain with a jerk of his thumb in your direction. “I certainly wouldn’t mind having a handler as hot as that one. I bet she takes_ real good _care of you, doesn’t she?”_

_You roll your eyes at his childish antics. “Come, Soldat. It’s time to gear up.”_

_“Mommy’s calling,” Rumlow teases, slipping his hand off the Captain’s shoulder._

_The Captain moves fluidly, like a shadow in the night, as he steps over to you to grab his gear. His black tactical uniform allows him to blend in with the other agents. There’s just one obvious difference between his uniform and theirs. The blood-red logo on the center of his chest grabs your attention. The black, soulless eyes of the skull look back at you in the same way the Captain’s eyes do. Tentacles curl out from underneath the skull, like writhing snakes._

_“Ya gotov otvechat,” the Captain tells you, his voice cracked and hollow, as he stands at attention._ Ready to comply.

_You feel empty inside as your response tumbles passed your lips. “Hail Hydra.”_

You wake with a start to the sound of a knock on your bedroom door. You sit up a little blearily and wipe at your eyes. “Come in,” you respond, briefly wondering why Steve would knock on his own bedroom door.

However, Steve isn’t the one that steps into the room. It’s the redhead. Natasha.

You swing your feet over the side of the bed and stand up, eyeing her warily.

She raises her hands up as a sign of coming in peace. “We’re not here to hurt you,” she tells you. “We only want to help.”

“Help?” you repeat with a scoff. “You think that telling me my marriage is a _lie_ is going to help?”

“Hydra is keeping you complicit by feeding you a fantasy. Only the truth can set you free. You have to trust me on this,” she urges.

“Well, I _don’t_ trust you.”

“You did once before.” She crosses her arms over her chest and stands her ground. “You and I have known each other for a long time.” You slowly walk around the bed, taking your place in front of her and mimic her pose. “We trained together when I first got to SHIELD.”

“I’ve never worked for any SHIELD. I’m just a PE teacher,” you insist.

She raises a brow as the corner of her mouth tilts. “I’ve never heard of any PE teachers that teach Mixed Martial Arts to a bunch of teenagers.”

You frown, wondering what else Steve has told these people.

“Hydra built you the picture-perfect life. Mixing just enough of your base personality with new memories and a happily-ever-after storyline to keep you from questioning your reality. You _know_ that this isn’t right. You _know_ that the picture is photoshopped. You just have to be willing to accept it.”

You don’t give her a response, so she keeps going.

“Sam and I are only guests here. We can’t navigate this world the way you and Steve potentially can, but you have to be willing to take back your control. If Hydra has been able to do all of this to your mind, imagine what they’re doing to your body! The longer it takes for you to wake up the more powerful their grasp on you becomes.”

“Enough!” you shout. You dart forward, not even thinking about what you’re doing. Grabbing her by the side of the neck and shoulder, you slam her face-first onto the mattress. Before she can react, your hand dives underneath her shirt, grasping the handle of the gun that’s tucked into the back of her jeans. You then jump back, holding the gun with deadly accuracy at her head.

She raises her hands in surrender as she slowly straightens back up, now eyeing you warily.

Your breathing comes out in heavy puffs, but your hands remain steady as adrenaline surges through you. It takes a couple more seconds before your mind finally catches up with your actions. You take a stumbling step back, arms lowering slightly. “How- How did I know you had this gun on you? How did I even do that?”

“Because we’ve been training together for years,” she tells you calmly. “Because you’re an Avenger.”

“I’m not!” you argue, but your voice waivers. “I’m just me! I’ve never even held a gun before!”

“Then why does it feel so familiar?”

Your breath catches at her words. Because she’s right. It _does_ feel familiar. And that terrifies you. Your hands tremble before you drop them completely. Your thumb moves on its own to click the safety back into place as if you’ve done it a thousand times.

“Val…” Natasha calls hesitantly.

“Get out,” you whisper brokenly.

“We only want to help-” she tries one more time.

“GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE!” you scream, flying into a rage so intense that your vision turns red.

“Okay,” Natasha responds softly, keeping her hands raised. She moves slowly so as not to startle you, even though you keep the gun lowered at your side. She backs out of the room and soon she’s out of your sight.

You choke on your next breath, the rage draining out of you and leaving behind an empty sort of ache. Your hold loosens on the gun and it falls with a dull thud to the carpet at your feet. “Oh my God…” you gasp out before covering your mouth. You feel like you’re going to be sick. Your body is shaking by the time the first sob forces its way out of your throat.

“Hey,” you hear his soft voice moments before Steve’s arms wrap around you and pull you into his warm embrace.

You allow yourself to completely breakdown against him, the tears falling from your closed eyes and soaking into his shirt. He gently rocks you back and forth, running his hands soothingly over your back. You feel like your whole world has just cracked and it’s mere seconds away from completely shattering. You’re barely holding on by a thread.

You must cry until you’ve completely exhausted yourself because you don’t remember when the crying stopped, but you’re now waking up to the morning sunlight filtering in through the curtains. It takes a few blinks before you realize that something’s not right. Normally Steve would have woken you up by now.

You turn to look over your shoulder, but there’s an obvious lack of another body on the bed. In fact, both his pillow and the extra blanket that’s normally folded over the foot of the bed are missing, too. You frown, feeling that sense of dread pooling deep in your gut. Pushing yourself out from the warmth and general safety of the covers, you look for the strength needed to try to face whatever comes at you today.

You find yourself curling your arms over your stomach as you make your way down the hall as a means of self-comfort and protection. When you surpass the kitchen and head straight for the living room, you find Steve exactly where you expected. He’s standing in front of the couch, folding up the blanket from your bed.

“Why did you sleep out here?” you ask in a hushed voice as if talking any louder will ignite the tension that seems to weigh over you and will cause it to explode.

Steve keeps his gaze focused on his task, not even giving you a glance. “Had a lot on my mind. Didn’t want to keep you awake.”

You feel like a frayed piece of cloth that’s coming apart at the seams. Pulling on the thread just makes it unravel even more, but you can’t seem to stop it. “Steve, please tell me you don’t actually believe anything those people said yesterday,” you beg.

He releases a long sigh, setting the blanket down on top of his pillow. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.” He finally lifts his gaze and meets yours.

You don’t like what you see. The seed of doubt has been planted inside of him and it’s had all night to grow. The uncertainty in his eyes cuts you to pieces like a thousand tiny daggers.

“Believe in _us_ ,” you tell him, your voice wavering emotionally. “Believe in the vows we took for each other.”

“And what if we didn’t really take them?” he cuts in.

Your lips tremble as you desperately fight for composure. “Wouldn’t you rather be happy if you were given the option?” you ask him the same question he asked you just yesterday.

His eyes turn sad and it makes your heart crack. “Not if the happiness is a lie.”

“Steve…” The crack in your heart splinters before it completely shatters.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, dropping his gaze once more. As if the words will be enough to fix what’s just broken.

You want this to be a dream. Some sort of twisted nightmare. You want to wake up back in bed and back in his arms. To feel his sleepy morning kisses against your lips and his feather-light touch over your skin. You don’t want _this_. Whatever this is.

Before you can decide what you want to say next, there’s another knock on the front door. Steve must read the panic on your face as he moves to answer it. “It’s not them,” he tells you.

Your brow furrows as you wonder how he could possibly know that. You follow him to the hall, but hang back as he pulls open the door.

“Package for Steve Rogers,” says the delivery carrier on the other side of the door.

“That’s me,” Steve confirms taking the package from the man. He tucks it under his arm, giving a gentle thanks to the delivery man before closing the door.

“What is it?” you find yourself asking. It’s a relatively large, but flat box. Almost like a pizza box, but bigger.

Steve moves passed you toward the kitchen. “Natasha said they’d send something that could help restore our lost memories. Some type of data package.”

“A data package…” you repeat doubtfully. “That showed up as a box from a delivery guy… because we live in a computer…” You’re hoping the words sound as ridiculous to him as they do to you.

“Won’t know until we open it,” he shrugs, disregarding your tone. He sets the box down on the kitchen table and grabs a pair of scissors. He slices through the tape and lifts the top lid of the box.

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting but it’s certainly not whatever you were looking at. “What is that?”

“It’s a shield,” Steve tells you, looking over the large circular disc. “Captain America’s shield.”

“How is that a data package?” you question. Every little thing seems to only raise more questions than answers.

“I’m not sure…” Steve takes a second to look it over before reaching forward to run his fingers over the white star in the center. He inhales sharply, his spine straightening as his eyes glaze over.

“Steve?” You call out, startled by the sudden change in him. You’re not sure if you should be doing something, but before you can take any sort of action, Steve rips his hand off the shield and stumbles back a few steps. “Are you okay?” you place your hand on his arm to help stabilize him.

He jolts away from your touch as if it burns. “I’m fine,” he gives a curt response in a tone you don’t recognize. “I remember the truth. I remember who we really are.”

When he finally meets your gaze, it’s not your husband that looks back at you. In fact, if his features weren’t so familiar to you, you’d think you were looking at a complete stranger. Gone is the soft, gentle, and sweet art teacher. In his place stands someone who’s hard, disciplined, and stoic.

“Steve…” you choke on his name, shaking your head. “Don’t. Please don’t do this.”

“It’s time to wake up, Val. Everything around us has been created and molded by Hydra. We can’t stay here any longer, but I can’t get you out of here until you fully understand what we’re up against.”

“No,” you deny. “That’s not possible! This isn’t a fake world! This is our home! This is our life!”

“Enough!” Steve insists, quickly growing annoyed with your denial. “None of this is real! You’re not my wife!”

You rear back as if he’d just slapped you.

Seeing the look on your face, Steve makes an attempt to soften his features. “Look, everything will make more sense after you touch the shield.”

“No!” you protest, taking several steps back and cross your arms over your chest as if you expect him to come at you and force you to touch it. “No, if this is what it’s done to you… then I don’t want that.”

“You can’t stay here forever!”

“Why not?!” You argue. “We were happy! Why can’t you just be happy with the way things were?”

“Because it was an illusion! A trick to keep us distracted from what’s really happening here.”

“Nothing is happening here, Steve! Except for you deciding to throw away our marriage because of two complete strangers that showed up at our doorstep!”

“They’re not strangers! And you would know that if you would just touch the God damn shield!”

The tension between you both has gone from a flickering flame to a full-on raging inferno. You can’t remember the last time the two of you have had such an explosive argument and that thought only seems to piss you off even more. You hate that any little blank space within your memory only seems to tip the scales of truth further toward Steve’s perspective.

“I won’t! I won’t touch it and I _won’t_ give up on us!”

“Aren’t you listening?! There is no _us_! Not in the way that you think. Only in the way that Hydra made you believe. Everything we had was based on a lie. It’s nothing but a pretty piece of artwork created by someone as a means to keep us trapped here. There was no wedding, no honeymoon, no marriage. You can’t give up on something that was _never there_.”

“Can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me that you feel absolutely nothing for me?” you challenge him. “Look me in the eye and tell me that because you now remember the so-called ‘ _truth’_ , all the nights we’ve spent wrapped in each other’s arms, every stolen kiss between class periods, every moment you were fucking _inside_ me… is now completely meaningless to you. Tell me that none of _that_ matters.”

“Val…” he winces like he’s in physical pain, some of the fight deflating out of him.

“Tell me, Steve,” you urge through clenched teeth. “Tell me _I_ don’t matter.”

“You,” he starts before his voice falters. His jaw ticks as he tries to keep himself composed. “You are my responsibility. I got us into this mess and I’ll find a way to get us out. But I need you to be stronger than this. You’re an Avenger, so start acting like one.”

He squares his shoulders and moves to grab his wallet and keys from the bowl on the counter. His actions throw you for a loop as you stare after him when he makes his way toward the garage door. “Where are you going?” you ask in disbelief that he’s just walking out on this conversation.

He opens the door and glances briefly at you over his shoulder. “I need to clear my head.” The door closes behind him with a resounding slam. You next hear the mechanical whirring of the garage door opening moments before the rumbling purr of Steve’s motorcycle starts up. Soon he has become no more than a sound fading into the distance as he takes off and leaves you behind.

You can’t believe that he just left. The shock is slowly eaten away by the fire of rage within you. It bubbles and pops like molten lava as it feeds and grows on the frustration and pain that are also tumbling inside you. It builds and mixes into a volatile cocktail until you feel like you’re about to burst at the seams. Unable to keep these feelings inside you any longer, you erupt in a sharp scream of rage and swipe the box off the kitchen table.

The shield separates from the cardboard mid-air and clatters to the floor with a metallic twang. The sound, though not particularly loud, seems to slice straight through you. It’s a unique sound but is also somehow familiar to you. It seems to ring in your ears and bounce around your head.

You release a pitiful whine as you raise your hands to your ears in a vain attempt to make the sound stop before you crumble to your knees on the kitchen floor. The more you try to resist, the more your head begins to ache. “No…” you squeeze your eyes tight and shake your head, willing the sound to leave you alone. “Stop,” you beg. “I don’t want this.”

You envision brief glimpses of the shield flying through the air before it collides with various objects and releases that same twang. The shield is so clear in your mind, but everything else from the memories seems to be just out of reach. You can’t let go of the deeply seeded feeling that these truly are memories, though. _Your_ memories.

Your eyes snap open as you release a startled gasp. Your eyes land once more on the shield where it rests just a few paces away from you. You’re not sure how much time passes as you sit on the kitchen floor just staring at it in a battle of wills. You almost feel like you’re getting drawn in by it. Compelled to just reach out and touch it, despite how much you really don’t want to.

Like following a whisper in the back of your mind, you find yourself inching closer. You’re not even sure if you’ve blinked the entire time as you come to a stop with your hand stretched over the shield. You pause and find yourself hesitating. You know that there’s no going back once you’ve touched it. You can continue to stay in this blissful ignorance, but without Steve, there’s nothing left for you here.

At least after you’ve touched it you know that you’ll get to go where ever he’s going. Maybe you can do something to salvage what’s left of your tattered relationship.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper quietly, though you’re not entirely sure who it’s meant for. Be it, your broken heart, or maybe just as a goodbye to the life that you thought you could have here.

You close your eyes, allowing a single tear to slide down your cheek before you press your hand down onto the cold metal.

Images flash in lightning speed across your closed eyelids. You thought it might play out in your mind like a movie on fast forward, but it doesn’t. It’s more like small snippets here and there in no particular order. You see Steve in his Captain America suit, jumping out of the back of a plane. You see Natasha in an all-black stealth suit taking down enemies in combat with swift elegance. You see Sam flying above you with a pair of metal wings. There’s a man walking out of a red and gold robotic suit of armor. _Tony._ A flash of lightning followed by a flying hammer and a man in a red cape. _Thor._

Bit by bit the snippets begin to come together, forming your life story. You remember the fall of SHIELD shortly followed by your recruitment to the Avengers. You remember training with the team and going on missions. Fighting side by side with every single one of them.

You remember the mission briefing with Steve the day before the two of you left the compound. You remember the fear that shot through your veins when the Quinjet took its first hit. And the pain that exploded throughout your whole body when it crashed.

Your hand rips off the shield. You take a few heavy breaths, your eyes opening once more as the memories settle in place within your mind. You give yourself another moment to let your heart rate slow before you pick yourself up off the floor. You scoop up the shield as well and let it rest against the wall.

You release a soft groan, and rub your forehead. You decide that a hot shower might be a good way to calm your reeling mind and help you plan your next steps. Your head feels extremely full now that your original memories are back, but the planted ones are still in there, as well. It’s strange how the planted ones feel no different from the real memories. It's like having two completely separate lives and memories jammed into one brain. You almost feel like there’s not enough space to store it all.

While you’re in the middle of lathering shampoo into your hair, you come to the realization that besides the planted memories, you can’t recall anything else after the plane crash. You don’t remember getting rescued or retrieved from the crash. You don’t remember any sort of Hydra facility. You certainly don’t recall any sort of mental download into this world. Your ‘real-life’ memories go directly from the moment of the crash to touching the shield.

Now that you’re a little more aware of what a memory alteration might feel like, you can’t help but notice that there seems to be a few blanks left. Something that’s still getting blocked somehow. You’re not sure what to make of that.

You finish up your shower and throw on some clothes. Steve hasn’t returned yet, so you head back for the kitchen to start on breakfast. It feels strange to go through your normal morning routine, knowing that everything is fake. Do you even need to eat in this world? However, the only other option is to basically sit and wait for him to come back, and you’re far too jittery for that, so cooking food is the best way to keep yourself moving.

The menial task and thoughts of Steve has your mind wandering a little as you try to grapple with the return of your memories and how that changes the way you feel about him. Or more accurately, how it doesn’t seem to change your feelings at all. It’s true that you hadn’t been in any sort of relationship prior to leaving for the mission, but thinking about going back to a strictly platonic and professional relationship makes you ache. When you try to separate memory from feeling, it still _feels_ like you’re in love with him. It makes you wonder if maybe he’ll feel the same.

Time seems to drag as you wait for Steve’s return. You make your breakfast, eat the food, and then clean up the dishes. You dispose of the cardboard box that the shield arrived in, and then straighten up the rest of the kitchen. You begin to feel like you should be doing something more than your normal routine. Maybe figure out how to help Steve find a way out. But you don’t even know where to begin. You now wish that you had stuck around a little longer when Nat and Sam had been here. You don’t really know the first thing of what’s really going on here.

You’re a little worried that any sort of deviation from what’s normal might tip off Hydra to the change that has occurred to you and Steve. There’s no way to know what kind of level of monitoring they could have here. What if they already know? What if they’ve been watching you this whole time?

The paranoia doesn’t exactly help matters at all, so you attempt to push it aside and continue to wait for Steve. You hope that he may have more answers. You’re in the middle of folding laundry in the bedroom to keep yourself distracted when you hear the rumble of Steve’s motorcycle returning to the house.

Setting down the t-shirt, you move back to the kitchen. When he steps through the door, he meets your gaze first before looking toward the table. His brows furrow when he notes that the shield is missing before he spots it leaning against the wall. He turns his gaze back to you, giving you a curious look.

You try to keep your expression neutral, wanting to try to get a read on him before you decide to bring up anything about your relationship. You understand that there are more important things at stake. You have to be willing to put your heart on hold for now. “So, what’s the plan, Cap?” you ask him directly.


	4. Chapter 4

_“What is the status of our patients?” the disembodied voice fills the space of the lab._

_“The memory data transfer has been completed in both patients. Subject Alpha-18 was quicker to respond to the package, but Alpha-19 soon followed suit,” one of the scientists speaks while looking over their computer monitor._

_“Excellent. Any change to the subcortical activity?” the voice asks._

_“None, yet,” a different scientist responds. “But Doctor, are you sure allowing the Avengers access to the mainframe to give the patients their memories back was a good idea? What if they try to turn on us?”_

_“Both patients had retreated into the safety of their subconscious. The best way to draw them out is to give them the false hope that there is an escape. The Avengers are mere insects in this world; insignificant at best and a minor annoyance at worst. We still hold all of the control. Run them both through simulation 764-1. Let’s see if there are any changes.”_

_“Yes, Dr. Zola,” the scientists respond._

-

It’s fucking cold here. God, do you hate it. Nothing but a barren, frozen wasteland. The stone walls of the facility do nothing to keep out the chill. Your lungs feel like you’re breathing in shards of ice and the cold settles deep into your bones. It’s miserable. But it’s all that you know.

Agonizing screams of pain echo throughout the compound, making many of the soldiers and agents shift uneasily on their feet as you walk past. You don’t pay them any attention and continue to make your way toward the sound. They are just finishing up with the asset as you enter the main space. He’s still strapped into the machine, but it’s beginning to power down.

“Welcome back, Captain.” An older man stands before the asset, looking down at the compliant soldier.

“Ready to serve, Secretary Pierce,” the Captain responds without emotion through panting breaths.

“We have a mission for you. Intel extraction. Agent Valor will accompany you.”

The asset’s gaze briefly flickers to you, “I work better alone, sir.”

Your eyes narrow as you glare back, and your jaw clenches to bite back a retort.

Pierce chuckles without humor. “I’m sure you can make an exception here, Captain. Please, remind me again… when you fell from the train in 1945, who saved your life?”

The asset swallows thickly before responding. “Hydra.”

“That’s correct.” The director begins to pace in front of him. “You were left in the snow to die a long, cold, lonely death. We rescued you. We took you in. We gave you _everything_. You owe us for that, don’t you?” He pauses his footing and looks expectantly at the asset.

“Yes, sir,” his response is automatic.

The director resumes his pacing. “You owe us your life, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We gave you a purpose. We gave your life meaning. Didn’t we?”

“Yes, sir.”

Pierce comes to a stop once more, directly in front of the asset, looking down at him with authority. “Your work has been a gift to mankind. You’ve shaped the future. We need you to do it again. Will working with Agent Valor be a problem?”

“No, sir.”

“Good.” He steps back and addresses the rest of the room. “Prep him. They leave in 20 minutes.”

You’re already waiting at the back ramp of the jet as the asset walks up, decked out in his black and red uniform. He wears a helmet that covers the top half of his face but keeps that sharp jaw and those plump lips in full view. “Soldat,” you greet, pushing off the wall you’re leaning against to stand straight.

He comes to a stop in front of you and looks into your eyes with cool indifference. “It’s Captain,” he corrects. “I am in command of this mission. You will do exactly as I say, no questions asked. Am I making perfectly clear, Agent?”

You raise a single brow in defiance. “Yes, _Captain_.”

“Good,” he turns away and moves further into the jet, settling in place at the pilot’s seat.

You slam your fist against the red button on the wall to close up the ramp before moving toward the co-pilot’s chair. You frown at the slight hesitation you feel as you approach the chair. You’ve never been scared of flight travel, so you’re unsure where this apprehension is coming from. You try to push it aside as you take your seat and buckle in.

“This is Captain Hydra, initiating take off,” the asset’s rough voice cuts through the communication system of the jet.

You glance at him from your periphery, feeling a strange tug in the back of your mind because that name sounds so strange coming out of him.

“All clear,” the transmission comes back.

The jet begins its vertical ascent before taking off. The asset remains silent during the entire flight to your destination, leaving you to stew in your thoughts. You can’t seem to understand why the words Captain and Hydra just sound so _wrong_ together.

“We should divide and conquer,” he finally speaks when you’re just a few minutes out. “I’ll drop you on the roof and work my own way in from the ground up.”

You blink in confusion, pulling yourself out of your thoughts. “You want to split up? Why?”

He gives you a flat look, “That sounded an awful lot like a question, _Agent_.”

You grit your teeth and look away, recalling his earlier order. _You will do exactly as I say, no questions asked._ “Apologies, Captain.”

You unclip the seat straps and stand as he pulls the jet into position over the building. He keeps the jet in stealth mode, although the cover of night also helps to keep you hidden as you press the button to lower the back ramp. You hook a descent line into your utility belt before jumping out the back of the jet and allow the line to safely lower you onto the roof of the building. Once your boots have hit the cement, you unclip the line and watch it zip up into the open back of the jet. Once the ramp is closed back up, the jet is impossible to see. All you can do now is trust that he hasn’t just straight up abandoned you.

You head for the rooftop access door. It’s locked, but that certainly isn’t enough to keep you out. Just a few seconds with a lockpick kit and you’re in. Your steps are completely silent as you walk down the stairs and onto the top floor. You press your back against the wall and peek around the corner to make sure the coast is clear.

It sure as hell is _not_.

You hold in a gasp and pull your head back. You close your eyes tight and lift a hand to activate the commlink in your ear. “Captain,” you whisper quietly, so as not to be detected by the agents on the other side of the wall. “Captain, do you copy?”

“What?” his annoyed response cuts through the feed.

You’re pretty sure you’ve just felt a vein pop in your forehead as annoyance surges within you. “Rooftop access is a bust, requesting immediate evac.”

“No.”

You clench your fists, wishing you could release a groan of frustration. “Sir, I don’t think you understand. The top floor is crawling with agents. I won’t be able to get through undetected.”

“It’s not a stealth mission. Make it work.”

“Sir, there’s at least thirty of them!”

He’s quiet for a short moment and you think he might be reconsidering for you. “Sounds like the odds are in your favor,” he responds before the line goes dead.

Your jaw drops, “Captain… Cap-” Your release the smallest possible groan you can, the sound vibrating through your body. You’re gonna fucking kill him.

Rolling back your shoulders and releasing a long breath, you mentally psych yourself up for the fight that’s about to breakout.

Darting out from your hiding space, you make quick work of three agents before the rest catch on to what’s happening. Your main goal is to incapacitate, not kill, but they certainly don’t make it easy on you. You dodge flying fists and return them with swift kicks and jabs of your own. You use their numbers against them, by shoving one body back into another two or three.

You manage to get through at least half of them before the remaining agents can get you pinned down. You thrash under their hold like a wild animal, but they don’t give. “Take her to interrogation,” one of the agents commands the rest.

You fight and resist the whole way, but it’s no use. You’ve been captured and now you’re trapped. You’re beginning to wonder if this was the Captain’s plan all along. Just to get you out of his hair so you’re no longer his problem. You’re relieved of your weapons before getting forced into a chair with your hands cuffed behind your back. Once the agents have made sure that you’re secure, they leave the room and lock the door behind them.

You sit there brooding in silence as you attempt to plan your escape. It’s only a few minutes that pass before the lights above you blackout. The red back up power lights begin to flash a second later. The power outage is soon followed by the door opening and a dark figure stepping into the room.

“You smug bastard. You knew there’d be a swarm of them on the top floor!” you seethe as the asset approaches you.

He rips the handcuffs apart with his bare hands, releasing you from the chair. “I needed a distraction,” he tells you casually like that’s all the answer that you require.

You stand and pin him with a glare, stepping close until your chests touch. “If Pierce finds out I was captured, he’ll kill me. You know the fucking rules!”

“Relax,” he scoffs. “They had you for all of 5 minutes and you were alone the whole time.”

Your hand darts forward, fingers curling around the grip of the gun strapped to his thigh before you yank it out of the holster. He remains completely unmoved as you raise the gun and fire. The bullet hits its intended mark; lodged into the shoulder of the agent that was about to enter the room.

“You’re welcome,” you comment, twirling the gun in your hand and slide it back into his holster.

The corner of his mouth twitches; the only hint of emotion on his otherwise blank face. “I heard them coming.”

“Sure you did.” You step around him to head for the door, finishing off the agent with a quick slam of their head into the doorframe, knocking them out. You grab your weapons from the table outside the door and stash them back in their respective places. “Did you get the intel?” you ask the asset.

He gives you a cold stare back.

“Just checking,” you snark with a shrug.

“Let’s go.”

You attempt to reign in your emotions knowing that they certainly won’t be of any use to get you out of here. The Captain takes the lead, traveling down the various halls of the facility as the lights above slowly shift between red and black. You’re both about to turn a corner when the asset stops suddenly and you crash into him. It’s literally like slamming into a wall.

Before you get a chance to go off on him, he’s turning and shoving you backward. One of his hands cup over your mouth to keep you silent. The leather from his fingerless gloves is hot against your lips. He tucks you both into a dark alcove, your back firmly pressed to the wall while he boxes you in with his muscular frame. You feel his thick thigh slipping between yours, his hips pinning you to the wall.

The flashing red lights don’t reach this small corner of space, so you can barely make out the intensity of his eyes as he looks down at you. It’s more of a feeling rather than anything visual, but it sends an unexpected and unexplainable thrill through you. You’re pretty sure he can feel the change in your breathing where his fingers are pressed just below your nose. His response is the barest shift in his stance, but it’s unmistakable when his thigh flexes, pushing forward into your spread legs and against your core.

You curse the clench you feel from your traitorous body giving in to her arousal. It takes everything in you not to fall into temptation and grind against him. You’re pretty sure that it’s not a pistol you feel pressed so intimately against you. Luckily, a distraction comes in the sound of pounding boots headed your way.

You begin to understand what the asset is doing as a group of agents runs passed without even noticing your presence. The two of you hold still until well after the sounds of the agents have faded away. Once the coast is clear, the Captain steps back, his hand slipping from your mouth. You can’t help the small dart of your tongue against your lower lip, the remnant of leather still clinging to the flesh.

“One minute before power and cameras are restored,” the asset’s voice is gruff, but not in the same manner it usually is.

You nod silently, unsure how your own voice will sound after that little episode.

The both of you manage to make it out of the facility without further incident and the asset leads you to where he’d stashed the jet. It uncloaks upon your approach and the back ramp soon lowers. You take your respective seats and the adrenaline high from the mission begins to fade once you’re airborne. You lean your head back against the chair and release a long breath. Now that the danger has passed, you feel some of that anger and frustration seeping back in. You still can’t believe that his plan had been to wave you around as bait.

“There’s a safe house not too far from this location. It’s late. We can bunk there and return to base in the morning,” he tells you, plugging in the coordinates.

You make a non-committal sound from the back of your throat.

You’re out of your seat as soon as the jet has landed, uncaring as the Captain still needs to run through the landing procedure to power down the jet. You’re out the back of the jet as soon as the ramp is down and head straight for the safe house. It’s a quaint little rural cottage out in the middle of nowhere. There’s a hidden panel in the wall which reveals a lockbox with a digital keypad on it. You type in the code to open the box which disables the alarm system and reveals the key for the front door. The asset is beginning to make his way toward the house as you open the door and step inside.

“I don’t know why you’re pouting,” he speaks upon following you inside. “The mission was a success.”

“I’m not pouting,” you glare at him over your shoulder. “And you’re a fucking asshole.”

His eyes narrow dangerously, “I know the real reason Pierce made me bring you. I don’t need a fucking baby sitter.”

You roll your eyes and huff, “You don’t know a Goddamn thing, _Captain_! I’m not your baby sitter. I was supposed to be your partner and instead, you thought it best to throw me to the wolves! World’s greatest soldier, my ass.”

You turn on your heel with the intention of walking away but barley make it a single step before a grip on your arm forces you to turn back around. The sharp whistle of a knife slicing through the air can be heard before your blade settles at the base of his throat. He doesn’t even flinch, keeping his grip on your other arm, his eyes blank.

“Choose your next words wisely, Captain,” you warn through gritted teeth.

His features don’t change, but the intensity behind his eyes increases as he looks deeply into yours. It feels like he can read your very soul within them. “You’re just as trapped as I am,” he finally speaks with vague realization.

“Yeah, no shit,” you respond sarcastically. “Every single person in that facility is one mistake away from a body bag.”

“Then why stay?” he questions.

“You’re kidding me, right?” you shoot him an incredulous look. “There is nowhere you can run that Hydra won’t find you. And with my damn luck, you’d be the one that they send after me. No offense, but your pretty-boy face isn’t exactly the last thing I want to see before I die.”

His eyes flash with an indescribable emotion before he leans forward into your knife. The blade is sharp enough that it begins to pierce the sensitive flesh of his neck. You pull it back immediately, looking up at him curiously. His large, calloused fingers glide over yours to pull the blade from your hands. He tosses it carelessly to the side, not even watching as it imbeds itself into the wall.

Your eyes dart down to the flash of red that’s beginning to bead up just below his Adam’s apple. One drop is able to build enough mass that it begins to glide down the column of his throat. You’re not entirely sure what possesses you to do it, but before the drop can reach the collar of his suit, you dart forward and catch it on your tongue.

His blood sends a burst of flavor across your taste buds. It’s not the normal metallic tang of sanguine blood. His is almost sweet. It’s electric. You follow the droplet’s trail back to its source and lap over the shallow cut. Your tongue is hot and wet against his skin. You only get one more taste before his accelerated healing closes the minor wound.

When you pull back, you’re not expecting the heated look in his eyes. With just a few quick steps, he has you pinned against the wall for the second time tonight. This time, though, you don’t quite mind it as much. “I don’t think you understand what exactly you’re about to unleash here,” his words come with an edge of danger that excites you.

Your lips curl at the corners and you’re sure that your pupils are blown wide. “Care to enlighten me, Captain?”

His jaw ticks as his eyes flicker between yours. “I don’t do _long and slow_.”

The tilt of your mouth turns into a full-on smirk. “Well, I don’t submit easily.” You duck under his arm and slide out from where he has you pinned to the wall.

He turns quickly to give chase, only to come face to face with the barrel of a gun. His muscles tense as he pauses. He looks down, noting the empty holster on his thigh before meeting your gaze once again. “You’ve sure got a thing for pulling guns out of holsters that don’t belong to you.”

Your smirk turns into a teasing grin. You slide your thumb across the latch to release the magazine from the pistol. You toss the loaded mag in one direction and check the chamber of the gun before tossing it in another. “That’s not the only weapon I plan on unholstering. But you’ve got to earn it first. Think you can handle that, Captain?”

He shifts on his feet and squares his shoulders. His hands come up slowly to unclip the chin strap of his helmet. Once it’s loose, he hooks his thumbs under the front edge just above his cheekbones before he lifts the helmet up and off his face. He tosses it carelessly to the side, still holding your gaze. His short blonde locks stick up in every direction and the corner of his mouth tilts deviously. “ _On va voir_.”

He makes the first move, jolting forward to try to grab you. You dance just out of his reach with a twinkling laugh. The game of cat and mouse has begun. You kick your leg up when he tries to move in again. He catches your foot and pins your ankle against his side. He continues to keep your leg trapped with one hand while the other slips into the top of your boot to pull out the small knife you keep there. It clatters to the floor and slides across the polished wood until it hits the far wall. He then unties the laces of your boot next. When you feel the tension give against the front of your calf, a swift yank back on your leg is enough to free you from his grasp, leaving only an empty boot in his hands. He tosses that to the floor as well.

Taking a few steps back, you pull off your second boot, so the weight difference won’t throw you off. Both of your socks go next to prevent slipping on the hardwood flooring. The two of you surge forth at the same time, meeting in the center of the room in a flurry of movement. It’s a spontaneous and sporadic sparring session that’s been fuel-injected with carnal sensuality. Every single jab, punch, or kick is swiftly followed by a weapon dropping to the floor. Guns, knives, and grenades are efficiently stripped and carelessly tossed aside. Your utility belts and his shoulder harness are also removed with striking precision.

You hit him across the cheek with your elbow, stunning him temporarily to then hoist yourself across the length of his torso and up onto his shoulders. His eyes flash like a bolt of lightning as he looks up at you, his cheeks framed on either side by your thighs. “Comfortable?” you ask with a teasing grin.

“I’m sure this is something I could get used to.” His hands settle on your lower back. “Though I think we would both be enjoying ourselves better if you had taken your pants off first.”

Your grin turns into a smirk. You lock your ankles around the back of his neck before letting your torso fall back and swing to the side. The momentum of your movement causes the Captain to tip forward and twist until he’s crashing to the floor on his back. In the middle of the move, you uncross your ankles and disconnect from him to land on your feet like a cat.

He makes a nearly imperceptible sound upon impact with the floor and then releases a short grunt when you drop onto his chest. His jaw ticks as he looks up at you once again. “I let you do that,” he responds gruffly.

You hum in amusement, “I’m sure you did.” You sit back on your bent knees and run your hands down the front of his uniform. The thick material and armored plating prevent you from getting a good feel at what lies beneath, but you know it’s certainly a body worth protecting. You shake your head slowly and release a soft tsk as your fingers brush against the red stitching at the center of his chest. “God, this logo is fucking hideous. You would think they’d eventually grow the balls to change it after all these years.”

He chuckles darkly. “You could try sending an email to marketing.”

You keep your gaze locked with his as you reach for one of his hands. You lift it up and unlatch the strap at his wrist to loosen his fingerless glove. Your fingers brush against the tips of his before you’re peeling the leather away. You toss it over your shoulder, tearing your gaze from his to watch your fingers glide over the lines on his palm. Your head tilts slightly as you lean down. Your tongue makes another appearance, licking up the length of his index finger. You nip teasingly at the pad before the tip disappears entirely inside your mouth. Your tongue strokes against the sensitive skin. The asset swears he can feel that same sensation where his cock is still confined inside his tactical pants.

His breathing changes as you slip a second finger into the hot cavern of your mouth. You suck on his digits like a fucking pro. He can even feel the vibration of your moans through your tongue. You’d think he had dipped his fingers into a pot of honey with the way your tongue glides over every single inch of them. Your grip on his wrist tightens as you pull his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop.

It only takes him half a second to roll you both to the side until you’re the one flat on your back. The arousal burning through him lights a fire in his eyes as he looks down at you with a feral look. Lifting his other hand to his face, he uses his teeth to unlatch and pull off the leather material. Bare hands grip the top of your thighs, keeping them spread wide as he ruts his hips into yours.

Your back arches and your eyes fall shut at the barest hint of friction against your clit. The Captain sits up and makes quick work of the top half of his uniform. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as your eyes feast upon the newly bared plains of finely corded muscle. He’s certainly a sight to look at. With a body that appears to have been hand-carved out of marble and eyes as intense as a hurricane, it’s enough to make just about anyone want to drop their panties.

You reach for the zipper on the front of your uniform and drag it down your torso. His eyes zero in on the movement, pupils widening with every inch of your revealed skin. Your thighs clench around his hips and your abs tighten as you sit up until your chest is nearly brushing his. You shrug out of your suit, allowing it to fall off your shoulders and down to your hips. You wear a simple black sports bra underneath.

The Captain watches you with a hooded gaze. “Are you finally ready to submit?”

You push your chest forward, molding your body against his. Your hands settle upon his broad shoulders, gliding over the thick muscles toward his neck. One hand stops right at the dip where his neck meets his shoulder, but the other continues its course up the side of his neck and sinks into the hair at his nape. Your nails scratch at his scalp, causing an unmistakable shiver to run through him. His eyes are drawn to your mouth as you lean in closer. Your nose has just barely brushed against his when your hand tightens into a fist in his hair and you yank his head to the side. “Not quite,” you finally respond to his question.

His breath hisses through his teeth at the sharp jolt of pain against his sensitive scalp, but that soon turns into a loud curse when your teeth sink into the exposed flesh of his neck. “Fuck!” The sting of your bite shoots straight to his cock. It twitches and strains against the confining material of his pants, begging to plunge into the sanctuary of your wet heat. “Did that taste of my blood turn you into a fucking vampire?” he asks with a grimace as you retract your teeth from his skin.

Your tongue laps at the fresh mark. You didn’t even break the skin. “Don’t worry. I won’t leave anything behind that can’t be healed by the time we make it back to base.” You meet his darkened gaze with a sultry smirk.

The air between you two is positively electric. It crackles and sparks like a livewire. It’s hot and intense, and at the same time seems to charge you up until every single molecule that makes up your entire being is vibrating with energy.

With the next heartbeat, you’re flat on your back once more. His mouth is everywhere, nipping at your neck, your shoulders, and your chest. You hear the distinct sound of tearing fabric before the binding feel of your sports bra disappears entirely. You are far too aroused to care. Large hands come up to mold and squeeze your breasts while his lips and teeth mark up your skin.

You’re absolutely shameless in the way your hips rock and grind against his erection. You can feel your arousal soaking into your underwear where the thick ridge of his cock presses against you. Your body is thrumming with pent up sexual need. You are quickly becoming desperate for any sort of friction on your aching core.

Your nails rake down his back, leaving behind angry red streaks across pale skin. Again, the pain surges through his neurons and sends another jolt to his cock. Drops of precum have begun to collect on the front of his boxer briefs. He pushes himself back up, ignoring your whine of protest when his hands leave your breasts. He drags them down your chest and passed the curve of your waist. They then sink beneath the top edge of where your uniform clings to your hips. In one fell swoop, your uniform and panties are stripped from your legs and tossed to the side.

“Hands and knees. Ass up,” the Captain orders in a gruff tone.

You are quick to comply, willing and ready to submit to him. You roll onto your stomach before bringing in your knees and lifting your ass into the air. The hardwood beneath you isn’t exactly comfortable and you know your knees will be bruised by the end of this, but it’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make. Your pussy is in complete control now and she’s willing to do just about anything to get her fill on some thick Super Soldier cock.

You resist the urge to look back at him to see what he’s doing. It doesn’t take long before you hear the sound of shuffling clothing as the Captain shoves his tactical pants and boxers halfway down his thighs. If he were trying to go for a little more intimacy, he might’ve taken the time to completely remove the last few pieces of his uniform, but the slick scent of your arousal has hit him like a slap to the face and it is entirely too easy to give in to carnal instinct and take you now.

He spits into his palm and gives himself a few lengthy strokes. The sound is absolutely filthy and conjures all sorts of images in your mind. You arch your back and spread your knees a little wider as you feel him move in close. You don’t care if it makes you seem needy and desperate, because honestly, that’s exactly what you are.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his head lined up with your entrance. That’s the only warning you get before a quick snap of his hips pushes his entire length into you. The impact of his thrust feels like the recoil of a firearm. It's harsh and fast but also sends a thrill up your spine.

He fucks you without mercy like he’s lost complete control over himself. The thwack of his balls fills your ears as they slap against your clit. His hands grip your waist, keeping you in place as your body is left unable to do anything but accept his punishing pace. You’re pretty sure this should hurt, the way he takes you like an animal in heat, but it doesn’t.

Your cunt is so fucking wet with arousal, that you begin to hear a squelch with every thrust. If you weren’t in the middle of having your brains fucked out of you, you might have been a little embarrassed. The asset takes this as a sign to up the pace even more.

One of his hands slides away from your hip and down over your stomach. He hooks his arm around your torso and hoists your body up until your back is pressed to his chest. His unrelenting thrusts never cease. In fact, it appears that he’s able to hit you even deeper from this new position.

“Look at you,” his breath fans across the side of your neck when he speaks directly into your ear. “Such a good, submissive little Agent, taking your Captain’s cock so well.”

The pitiful whimper that escapes your throat would piss you off if you were in your right mind. He angles his hips just right to hit you in that one spot that makes your mind go blank.

“Are you gonna cum for me, Agent?” he asks with a nip of his teeth against your ear.

“Yes, Captain,” you respond through panting breaths.

“Good girl,” he praises in a deep tone that makes your body shiver. “Touch your clit,” he orders next, feeling his impending release starting to build up.

His arms tighten around you, keeping your body pinned to his as your hand slips between your thighs. You gather some of the excess slick right where your bodies are joined onto your fingertips before dragging them over your aching bundle. You flick and swirl over the small bud, vocalizing your pleasure with stunted gasps and tiny mewls.

The Captain releases soft grunts and heavy breaths directly into your ear. They’re the type of sounds that would make you weak in the knees if you were standing. They’re deep and guttural, pouring out of him like secrets slipping out from the cracks of a broken soul.

Your hand reaches up and back, fingers finding their way back into his messy hair. Your touch is gentle this time as you guide his face closer. Your lips brush against his in a slow caress. His pace falters briefly. In the next second, one of his hands has come up to cradle the back of your neck and he resumes his savage pace, kissing you just as fiercely.

He steals your breath and swallows your moans, taking you with a ferocity you’ve never known before. He claims your body as his own and brings you to heights you didn’t know you could reach. Your moans grow higher in pitch and come with greater frequency as the pleasure builds in your body.

Just a few more quick thrusts and one last flick of your finger, then suddenly your vision whites out. You barely feel the strength of his arms tightening around you before you lose all physical sensation.

In the next moment, you’re bolting up in bed, drenched in sweat with the sheets clinging to your damp body. You’re panting for breath like you’ve just run a marathon, and lift a shaking hand to your forehead. “What the fuck was that…?” you ask to the empty room.


End file.
